Healing Hurts Too
by Rachelle Ryan
Summary: Sequel to Invisible Scars. Secrets are unearthed and new ones buried. Duncan finds himself in the cold and is left wondering what the heck is going on.


Ryan, Rachelle  
Healing Hurts Too  
E-mail address: Aisha_666@hotmail.com  
Rating: G  
Keywords:  
Character Listing: A RR DM J M  
Summary: Sequel to Invisible Scars. Secrets are unearthed and new ones buried. Duncan finds himself in the cold and is left wondering what the heck is going on.   
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own anybody in my own story. Except for Tom and you'll excuse me if I'm not satisfied with his clumsy ass.  
Note: Sorry it took so long for me to write. I'm afraid my muses were so busy bickering over the ending that it took forever to get them to agree on anything. Even after a truce was called they kept throwing barbs at each other like a pair of divorcees. Thanks to Sally for beta-ing my story.  
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Healing Hurts Too  
  
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Amanda  
  
Some people say that to heal you first must forgive. Well, I think in some cases that's total bull. After what Richie has told me, I think that the people who hurt him don't even deserve to earn God's forgiveness. I think they deserve a shot to the head. I'm no angel myself but I've never done anything like what those people did - to a kid, no less -and such a loveable kid as Richie. That's why I'm here at Joe's trying to drown out my thoughts with a little alcoholic pain relief. I'm not having much luck. Most of the time I'm grateful for the fact that my immortality makes it harder for me to get drunk but right now I'm cursing it.  
  
Sighing, I take another long draw of my whiskey. Richie didn't tell me all of it - I'm sure of that - but then again, since what he did tell me was only a sample of what was to come I can hardly blame him. I gaze deeply into my glass; my thoughts are becoming jumbled so I guess the alcohol is finally taking effect.  
  
I hear the whisper of cloth beside me as someone sits down. I usually like being the center of attention but at the moment all I want is to be alone with my drink in my attempt to block out the world. So not even looking at my new bar mate, I say, "Go aaaway. Can't you see that I already have comppanee?" I shake my drink to show that it is all the company I need.   
  
A warm chuckle is his only response. I can tell he is a guy because a woman could in no way produce that sound. "Ah, but Amanda you looked like your friend was being too talkative for your liking. Don't you think you've had enough? Joe tells me you've had two whole bottles." The soft British accent informs me that my mystery guest is Methos. Oh goody. I stiffen up on my barstool when my brain finally registers his words.  
  
"He what? Dat traitor." I half rise from my seat but Methos grabs my arm and pulls me back down.  
  
"Whoa! Whoa! He's just concerned for you. What's eating you? Bad day, what?"  
  
I snort then take another big gulp of my whiskey. "Methos, your deductive reasoning never ceases to amaze me." Noticing that my head is starting to clear, I tip back my glass and drain it dry. Almost immediately I reach for the next unopened bottle in front of me. Struggling with the cap, I turn my attention to Methos. "I'm a big girl! I don't need you or Joe to look after me." He just takes the bottle out of my grasp and with obvious ease unscrews it. I had been twisting it with all my strength but turning it the wrong way. Not saying anything, I irritably grab the bottle back and refill my glass before tipping it back immediately, drinking half of it. I turn back to the bar and totally ignore him. After fifteen minutes of sitting in silence watching me down one whiskey after another, he lets out a sigh and leaves - and I get back to the serious business of drowning out the world.  
  
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Methos   
  
I left Amanda to get totally sloshed. Joe was awfully worried. He shanghaied me the moment I stepped through the bar doors and told me the situation. She'd been here for 3 hours and had already gone through two bottles of whiskey. After trying to talk to her I can't say I blame him for worrying. Amanda doesn't usually drink like this and in all the years that we've known each other, I've never seen her this drunk: unless it was on holy ground. She's too smart to let herself loose control where anyone could come along and take her head. Trying to figure out what set her off I headed towards the likeliest source of information: Joe. After all, if the watchers didn't have a clue as to what was going on, then how was I supposed to guess after fifteen minutes of watching her down drink?  
  
Sliding in to my usual seat, I waited while Joe made his way over to me with an anxious expression on his face. After glancing toward our drunken friend Joe asked, "So what's wrong?"   
  
It's truly amazing sometimes, the things that people think you know after living for 5 thousand years. "How the Hell am I supposed to know?" I retorted. Joe frowned at me as if I was deliberately lying to him. "Honestly Joe, she wouldn't even talk to me! How am I supposed to know what's bothering her? I'm not a mind reader. It's not as if I follow her everywhere and record her life."   
  
Joe frowned. "If you must know, she lost her watcher yesterday in Paris. We only found her again when she turned up on McLeod's doorstep and Tom called it in. Shortly after she showed up there, Richie stormed out and Tom followed. Tom then lost him in a crowd and when he got back he found that Amanda had left as well."   
  
"Tom," I mused. "Wasn't he the watcher trainee who set fire to the library?" I frowned at this point: that kid was a klutz.  
  
"It was only a little fire." Yeah, right.  
  
"I was surprised he didn't get drummed out." Or shot.  
  
"Yes, well, he's going through his trailing training and I decided that MacLoed would be a nice easy assignment for him."  
  
"What you mean is that Mac is so oblivious to everything he wouldn't even notice that bumbling fool following him! And even if he did, he knows of watchers anyway and Tom wouldn't end up spilling the secret of the society to the lucky immortal that caught him on their tail."  
  
"Exactly. Anyway, none of us have any idea where Amanda was between the time that she left Mac's place and showed up here to start drinking up my supply of whiskey."  
  
"Isn't this a regular mystery?" I heard a quiet 'thump' and turned to find that Amanda had passed out on the bar. "And it looks like Amanda won't be answering our questions any time soon."  
  
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Richie  
  
I can't believe all that happened yesterday. I actually told some one. Not just anyone but Amanda. Amanda. I've always thought of her as the unattainable: treasure to be lusted after. Somehow overnight she transformed from that into a friend. I don't really want her to change back. I've always valued my friends more than my lovers. Friends are a lot harder to come by and nowhere near as easy to replace.   
  
I just don't know how to feel. So many conflicting emotions are grappling for control within me. I feel angry with myself for telling her, yet glad for finally finding some one to talk to. I feel, I don't know, like what happened wasn't real - that, like everything good in my life it will disappear if I try and focus on it. It's like it was a dream: Amanda was so understanding and comforting - the exact opposite of what I had feared. My fears: so hard to overcome that it took all my self control to tell her about them, these grinning skeletons in my closet. Amanda held me as I cried and comforted me when I explained to her about a few of the worst experiences of my life. I didn't tell her all of it - I couldn't - but what I did tell her was pretty bad and she, she, oh; I don't know how to describe it.  
  
I don't want to go to the dojo and face Mac's wrath. I just want to stay where I am so I can go on believing that yesterday was real and not some hope filled dream conjured up by my imagination. I've had such dreams before. Fantasies where I wake up and find that Emily never died and I'm four again, safe and sound in her arms; where I'm adopted by people who really love me and tell me that no one will ever hurt me again; where nobody molested me when I was only eight years old and I didn't spend 10 years trying to forget; where Tessa was never shot and we are still living in the antique store, a happy family; where I'm not an immortal, not a killer; where the impossible happened and I can actually get more than 3 hours of sleep a night. Dreams; my dreams are dangerous things - full of everything I have ever wanted and when I wake up to realize that they're not real its like a slap in my face. I don't want yesterday to be a dream.  
  
Screw this. Mac can get along with out me today. He's done just fine for 400 years, after all. I grab my coat and head out anyway. Damn sense of honor. After spending all those years around the honorable MacLoed some of it must have rubbed off on me. Not too much, thank god.  
  
No small part of it is also that I want to see Amanda again, to confirm that I wasn't delusional and the likeliest place for the thief to be is at Mac's. At that thought I feel a pang of jealousy, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. Wait a minute, am I really jealous of Mac? Yes, god damn I am. Before, I never really minded if Amanda was involved with Mac. Where I grew up, on the streets, it didn't matter how many lovers you had at a time. It didn't matter if you had a boyfriend and a girlfriend simultaneously as long as everybody knew about it, and everybody knows about it with Amanda. Yet I'm jealous. This is strange. I stopped lusting after her yesterday, so why am I jealous of Mac? I don't know what to think.   
  
Starting to walk again, I sigh. Oh, hell I've never been able to figure out what's going on in my head anyway. Why should today be any different? As Oscar Wilde said, 'Know thyself? If I knew myself, I'd run away.'   
  
I never make it to the gym.  
  
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Amanda   
  
One thing I really love about being immortal is that we don't get hangovers. Okay, we get hangovers but they only last as long as it takes to heal them. I can tell from the fading pain in my head that I went on a doozey of a drinking spree but the reasons behind it are fuzzy and seem to be evading me at the moment. Taking stock, I attempt to force my eyelids open. This would be a lot easier if they didn't feel as though they were glued together with industrial strength adhesive. With what I consider to be a mammoth effort, I manage to part my leaden lids to find the world spinning around me.   
  
Note to self: never ever drink that much straight whiskey again. Even with my immortality, the last few seconds of my fading hangover feel like torture. 'Why was I drinking?' I probe the spot where the memory usually resides it appears that answers have slipped away to hide in the recesses of my mind. 'Well I obviously don't want to know if I drunk that much to forget. Now back to the more pressing question: WHERE THE HELL AM I?' Carefully moving my head, I get a look around the room and catch a glance of hallway. I spot Adam and Joe arguing and everything comes flooding back in a rush. 'Oh, shit.'   
  
I want to break down and cry but I can't - not here, in front of those two buttinskis. 'I must be in Joe's office. Wonder how long I've been out.' Searching for a clock I finally spot one hanging on the wall behind me. 'How inconvenient. 6:38. Dear god! ' I jump up from my makeshift bed on the desk and race out the door, passing a confused Joe and Adam on the way out. 'I'm late!'  
  
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Duncan  
  
'Amanda is usually fashionable late but this is ridiculous.' Glancing at my watch I realized that it hadn't changed much since I last looked. It was still only 7:25, but she was supposed to arrive at 6:30. The thought that she might not show at all hadn't crossed my mind when I had started getting dressed. She never let little things like arguments get in the way of smooching me before. Especially when the argument wasn't even between us. She didn't even come upstairs yesterday like I expected. I noted that Richie hadn't shown up for work today either and for a minute I entertained the thought that they were doing something together, but soon discarded it. He would still have been sulking over the fight we had yesterday.   
  
Suddenly I saw her sweeping her way towards me wearing a Teresa original. The dress was black, clingy and cut so low in both the front and the back that it left nothing to the imagination: just Amanda's style. I got up to pull her chair out for her and she gracefully sat.  
  
"Duncan dear so sorry I'm late." Same old Amanda.  
  
"Where were you?"  
  
"Oh, here and there Duncan. Have you ordered yet?" Something about her over-cheerful tone struck me as odd, but I couldn't put my finger on it. What ever it was, it encouraged me to push.  
  
"No. Here and there where?" The thought that she might be planning a robbery occurred to me and I suddenly got very suspicious. That could after all be the reason she didn't come home last night. She might have been casing a joint.   
  
"My Duncan aren't we being nosy?" She waved a waiter over.  
  
I guess I hit a nerve. I dropped it and we spent the rest of the dinner making pointless conversation about the weather and what had been going on since we saw each other last. She was a million miles away the whole time. Only picking at her food and making no move to get me into bed later. Finally I had had enough of dancing around. "Amanda." I grabbed her hand. "What's going on?"  
  
She pulled her hand from mine and spat, "None of your business. Duncan." Somehow she made my name seem like a curse. "You're too lost in your own little world to notice the obvious and I'm not in the mood to fill you in." Getting up, she headed for the exit, leaving me clueless and wondering at what I had done.   
  
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Richie  
  
You think I'd learn after being kidnapped a few hundred times. But no, I always seem to end up in the same position over and over again: tied up and gagged. I guess some people never learn, me being a case in point. Tugging at my ropes, I mused to myself that I should take an annex course.   
  
At least this time I'm not alone. Across from me, similarly bound and gagged was the woman that had been the intended victim of this kidnapping. She had rubbed her wrists raw trying to loosen the ropes holding her but to no avail - they were too tight. I had tried to motion to her earlier not to struggle so hard but she hadn't paid any attention. I knew her type, the kind who always believes they know best, basically a snob. Makes me wish I hadn't tried to save her.  
  
I had been minding my own business, walking down the street to DeSalvo's when I heard the woman scream. I immediately charged to her rescue. Too much time with Mac I guess, though I always was too chivalrous for my own good, at least Sissy always said so. She was the rich businesswoman type with long blonde hair. She had been struggling against two hired thug types decked out in the usual black leather and like the idiot I am, I charged in swinging. After all, they didn't look very professional and I figured that it would be an easy fight. I didn't see the third guy who had hung back to watch: he was the one that cold cocked me. I must be going soft. My ears are still ringing even though the headache's gone.   
  
Miss Business woman is struggling now in a fit of frustration that makes me want to kick her. Oh, hell why not? So I kick her, hard. If looks could kill I have the feeling I'd be dead now. A couple of years ago her gaze would have made me uncomfortable but in these few years I have met more dangerous people than her, heck I've killed more dangerous people than her.   
  
I guess one thing I have to be grateful for this time is my kidnappers aren't insane immortals out for Mac's head or mine. Heck they weren't even after me. Though that might mean they could decide to get rid of me at any moment, I doubt their choice of disposing of me will be anything other than a bullet. It might hurt but it won't permanently kill me.   
  
My cellmate has decided that it's no use thrashing about any longer and has entered the crying stage. At least her tears are silent and she's not whining but it upsets me nevertheless. Even before I became an immortal I didn't cry when I was kidnapped. I figured it wouldn't do me any good and it won't do this woman any good either. Sighing into my gag I shuffled over to her. Thankfully, this time my arms were bound in front of me and I was able to get them around her. She turned into me and started sobbing on my chest. My vexation with her faded. I never could stay mad at a woman for long, not even Amanda when she used my hormones against me to get information. Making cooing noises through my gag and rocking her back and forth I was able to get her to fall asleep.   
  
Slowly moving so not to wake her I moved over. Time to get to work. I don't know why these people want her but whatever it is it can't be a good thing. Kidnappers are rarely nice people after all. Still this is going to hurt. Biting my lip I pulled hard breaking my thumb to squeeze it through the ropes. The pain faded as I untied my feet. Sometimes I really like being immortal: when I was mortal I had to wait two months for my thumb to heal. I had to do this a couple of times in my youth to escape some rather nasty situations. Okay so it was more than a couple of times, my doctor had said I was lucky the last time there wasn't any permanent damage. Dr. Watts was a nice lady who looked the other way when I'd come to her as a kid with wounds that ordinary kids don't get. Like that time I had a bullet graze on my ribs.   
  
No time for reminiscing I told myself as I shoved off the ropes and happily took out the gag, finally regaining some spit. No real point in untying whatever-her-name-is at the moment - she's quiet and I don't want her making too much noise right now. Not until I have an idea of what's going on. Rolling my shoulders to get the circulation going again, I regarded our five by five cell with a critical eye. It wasn't much to work with - hardly enough room for two people - but I wasn't planning on fighting in here any way. No, the real problem would be getting out of the cell not fighting in it, the fighting would go on outside. Sizing up the door I smiled. This was going to be easy.   
  
Thirty minutes later  
  
Damn, I really should have knocked on wood. I had managed to get the door open but on the other side were the thugs that had kidnapped us. It was like a scene out of the movies: they were actually playing cards. I busted down the door to find five thugs right there. They were too shocked for a moment to react and I used that to my advantage. I knew that if they were able to beat me I would be back in the room more closely watched than before, or dead. Neither sounded appealing. I only had one shot. Luckily for me I've had a lot of practice with thugs, though that could be construed as unluckily depending upon how you look at it.   
  
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Amanda  
  
I got a hotel room. I never do that when I stay in Seacouver. But I'm too mad at Duncan to stay at his place. He doesn't know a thing about Richie. I had been pacing around the room but the thought of Richie made me sink on to the bed. It makes me want to reach for the bottle again but that won't help him. How can I help him? Obviously he's been using gymnastics as a type of therapy but he needs more. Now that I know where to look I can see the pain lurking in his eyes. Pain like that can fester and turn a person bad.   
  
I had seen the same pain in Kenny's eyes once upon a time. I didn't know what to do then and I still don't know now, but this time I have to succeed. I won't let Richie turn into another Kenny, so damaged he has to damage others too. I kicked off my shoes. I hadn't bothered to change when I got back from the restaurant so I was still wearing my dress. Getting up, I headed over to my suitcases, planning on changing for bed. Not halfway there, a knock resounded through the room. Sighing, I opened the door to find a soot-covered Richie standing there. I heard a gasp and realized it came from me.  
  
"What the hell happened to you?" He looked like the kid who'd got his hand caught in the cookie jar. Feeling like I'd kicked a puppy I stepped aside letting him in. "I'm sorry, but what happened?"  
  
"My apartment building got torched." He sat down on the elegant rose patterned comforter, getting soot all over it in the process. He'd left black footprints on the white carpet. I knew I should be scolding him for wrecking my room. If it was anybody else I would have been furious and demanded he leave but not with Richie. I just helped him get his jacket off and got him under the covers. He was so exhausted that he was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.   
  
Richie coughed a couple of times in his sleep. I pushed back some of the unruly curls that had fallen in his face. My fingers brushed gently against his skin and his quieted, turning over. I snatched my fingers back, trying to ignore the tingling feeling that had coursed through me with that brief contact: a feeling that still lingered. I sat in shock, alternatively staring at my fingers and at Richie in amazement. At that moment, I realized that I loved him. I loved this seriously messed up child. 'He's a child!' I yelled at my heart but it ignored me. 'He's a hurt child, I can't be in love with him!' But there was no denying it. My heart had made up its mind. Damn you. I yelled at it. You're always getting me into trouble! Looking at Richie's face, so innocent now that all his worries are left behind, I couldn't imagine the world without him. Yet I also knew I couldn't tell him about my love for him. He needed a friend now, not a lover. Even I could see that. I could however, snuggle with him while he's asleep, at least. After all I may have been doing the right thing but I was still Amanda.   
  
Smiling I left him briefly to change into the only conservative pajama outfit I owned. A full piece silk set with pants and a long sleeve shirt that I just had to have because of the texture, even though it wasn't my usual style. Then I climbed into the bed next to him and wrapped my arms around him. Briefly before I surrendered to sleep I wondered how Richie knew where I was staying.  
  
  
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Richie  
  
The first thing I was aware of when I woke up were arms. They were wrapped around me. I blinked a couple times as I tried to remember where I was. Arms being wrapped around me aren't unusual but the fact that I couldn't seem to recall to whom they belonged was a new development. I tried to remember what had happened last night and the knowledge of what had occurred suddenly came rushing back: the kidnapping, the escape, the chase, the fire, and lastly ending up at Amanda's. Guess I knew whose arms these are now.   
  
The police had been sympathetic and had offered to find me a place to sleep. I found that they are a lot nicer to the knight in shining armor than to the common thief, but I told them I had a friend I could stay with and I did, just not the one most people would normally assume. In the past I would have gone to Mac's, but not this time. I found myself calling Joe instead, asking him where Amanda was staying. Joe was surprised but he told me anyway. She was staying in the most expensive hotel in town.   
  
I was relieved that she wasn't staying with Mac. Inside I trust her and this newfound trust sort of scared me. Angie always said I have real problems with trust and she should know: she's known me longer than just about anyone, so I have to agree with her. For me, one of the most valuable things in the world has always been trust. It may seem to a lot of people that I'm too trusting but I'm not really. I extend people a sort of trial run before I decide if I truly trust them or not, to me trust must be earned. I've been betrayed far to many times to trust lightly, yet here I am, trusting this man-eating thief. I've been a thief myself and I know that there truly in no honor among thieves but I still trust her. I never trusted any other immortal like this except for Darius.   
  
Pain spiked through me at the very thought of Darius. Mac didn't know it but I had visited Darius often and we had talked. I always danced around the issue but I think he knew everything I thought about. It was like he could see through me, yet he let my secrets lie. I miss Darius - he was one of my truest friends. I don't think I'll ever have another like him mortal or immortal.   
  
When I first started seeing Darius I felt slightly guilty that I didn't tell Mac but the guilt wasn't overwhelming. I didn't fully trust him then. Mac was a distant father figure in my life and I had learned long ago that was the way I preferred it. I cared for him of course, he was much better than most of the men I had lived with and I would protect him because he was family but I didn't trust him. He always seemed to be keeping something from me, which I found out was true. Tessa was another story, she had earned my trust and I would have done anything to help her. I blamed myself for a long time over her death: I loved her and she died because I was too slow. Now that pain had faded and joined the others from my past in the deepest recesses of my mind where I hardly stumble onto them.   
  
Shaking off the past I detangled myself from Amanda's arms and slipped out of bed. I wondered for a moment why she was in bed with me, until I spotted the couch. It was a highly ornamental affair, high backed and richly colored; it would have been hell to sleep on. Amanda wasn't one to sleep on the floor after all she was Amanda. She had eaten better-looking men than me for breakfast.   
  
Amanda made a noise and turned over in bed to search for the warmth that had left but she settled down after a moment. That's when I noticed the black ash I had left over everything. Looking down I could see my footprints glaring up at me from the white carpet. 'Oh, I'm so dead, but first I better take a shower before I make more of a mess.' Moving as silently as possible I headed towards the door I assumed was the one leading to the bathroom. I caught one more glimpse of Amanda as I shut the door and it suddenly occurred to me that she was wearing more clothing than I'd ever seen her in.  
  
  
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Amanda  
  
Half asleep I reached for Richie only to find an empty bed. When I opened my eyes I saw the stretch where Richie had been and sighed. No more snuggling. I could hear the sound of a shower going. The sound soothed me back to sleep.   
  
I woke again, this time not because of the emptiness of my bed but because of the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. Like a zombie I got up and followed my nose. It had taken me centuries to learn how to cook. I blame it totally on the time in which I was born. In my time food was never cooked properly: it was always half burnt, or half raw. The only people to get decent food were the nobles; and even then it was questionable. One of the things I love most about this century is the good food. Mortals finally figured out how to keep things from spoiling. I love to eat good food and the smells coming from the kitchen were delicious.   
  
I was surprised when I reached the kitchen. I had thought it was just the room service I was drooling over. To my surprise, I found that it was Richie. He was standing with his back to me wearing a white t-shirt and flipping pancakes. Sausages were sizzling on a burner and I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven.  
  
"I didn't know you could cook." Richie's shoulders tensed up then relaxed so fast I almost missed it, but I practically invented the art of reading body language and I could tell for a second there he had been ready to run. Part of me was saddened by the fact that Richie was never off guard but another more practical part of me, the survivor, admired his instincts at such a young age. Still the pain that he had gone through that had caused this wariness and alertness was definitely not worth it. Childhood is supposed to be a time to be carefree these days. He should not have had to go through what he did. Times were supposed to have changed. I kept a smile on my face even as all of that went through my mind. Scaring Richie away was without a doubt not something I wanted to do.  
  
He turned and smiled, "Oh, I picked it up here and there." Facing the stove again he expertly flipped the pancake one last time onto a plate then set it before me. It was big and fluffy and I could see the blueberries. I knew I was practically drooling but I didn't care. Even in all my centuries I had never learned to cook this well. Richie grinned at me then plunked down a jug of syrup.   
  
The first bite was even better than I expected. He then handed over some sausages and I realized with a start that they were homemade. They were great too. 'Damn, I'm starting to rethink not making a pass at him. Great ass and cook all in one? Duncan's the only other man I ever knew who had both qualities.' Momentarily I felt guilt over dumping Duncan the way I had but I consoled myself with the fact that with Duncan it was never about love or even infatuation. Duncan was lust and a good time. No, Richie was love - even if I couldn't tell him yet.   
  
Still something had to be up. I looked him squarely in the eyes and asked, "Okay how long was I out for? How long did this take you? And why'd you do it?"  
  
"You were only asleep for..." he looked behind me and I turned to find the clock read 12:00. I turned back around and raised an eyebrow. He just shrugged that annoying grin of his playing on his lips. "A couple of hours. It didn't take me that long. Though I did charge for the ingredients and your room service bill. I did it to thank you." There was an awkward silence for a moment. I had no idea what to say.   
  
Finally I settled on. "So how did the fire start?" A blush settled over Richie's cheeks that made him look that much more adorable and innocent. It was sad that that show of innocence was just that: a show. Flashes of his story ran through my brain and I found myself wanting to take him up in my arms and hold him again. 'Down girl. You know that's not all you want to do.' I could feel a blush creeping into my cheeks as well and quickly picked up my coffee cup to hide behind.  
  
"It's a long story..."  
  
I smiled at his attempted dodge. 'Gonna have to do better than that.' "Not like either of us are going to get any older."  
  
His grin was enough to make me weak in the knees. 'If I could patent that...' Outwardly I showed no sign of the effect he was having on me. Seeing that his charm was having no effect, no apparent effect any way, he sighed. "Well I was walking to work..."  
  
At the end of his story I blinked. I just couldn't believe it. I know I attract trouble like a black cat but Richie's ability to get into messes was ludicrous. It read like a fairy tale. He had pulled a knight in shining armor act. After saving the damsel in distress he brought the lovely maiden back to his castle but enemy knights tracked them down and razed his castle to drive them out. After defeating the attackers and handing the fair maiden, or in his opinion the screeching harpy, over to the King's Guard, the police, he sought refuge at his lady's favor. It was almost a real fairy tale - except that in a fairy tale the knight would have defeated the challengers then gone on to live happily ever after with the damsel instead of heading off to another woman's. Finally I was able to voice my disbelief. "I don't believe it." He opened his mouth to protest. "No, I believe it happened... I just can't believe it happened." I frowned. "Wait that didn't make any sense. Never mind." I sighed. "Richie, you sure make life interesting." 'Don't ask why he came to you. Don't ask, don't ask.' I was able to restrain my curiosity but boy, did it take hard work. I wasn't used to being discreet. I usually went for blunt but I didn't want Richie to second-guess his coming to me for help. I wanted him to trust me enough to come back.  
  
"I know Amanda." He glanced at his watch. The childlike expression on his face didn't fool me for an instant. "I've got to go. Mac has probably already blown a gasket about me not being at work yesterday - if I don't come today, he'll start looking for the guy who took my head. Especially if the burning of my apartment made the news." He kissed my cheek and headed past me on the way to the bathroom. He gathered up his dirty clothes and started for the door. I was too dazed by the suddenness to say anything. "Enjoy your lunch. If your still around I'll see you at Joe's tonight."   
  
He stopped with his hand on the knob his face losing the carefree expression he had been forcing. "I came to you because I trust you Amanda, please don't tell anybody about what I told you." I nodded, shocked. He smiled and then he was gone. I put my hand on my face where he kissed me like a love struck teenager. I felt giddy inside. 'Oh, I'll be sticking around for a while. Maybe a long time.' Feeling warm inside, I mentally started making plans, all the while thoroughly enjoying the lunch that Richie had gone to the trouble to make me. I was going to heal him yet and when he was ready I was going to jump him. I smiled, humming to myself. Life was good.  
  
________________________________________________________  
Methos  
  
Joe had been hovering all night but Amanda had barely touched her glass of bourbon. Whatever had been haunting her yesterday she was obviously no longer dragging around. No, now she was filled with something other than pain. I haven't had sixty-eight wives without learning anything about the opposite sex. The way she's holding herself, the way she glances towards the door in anticipation every few minutes, the way she keeps getting lost in her glass with this wistful smile on her face, they are all sure signs of only one condition: love. I can't help but smile as I watch her. Amanda the flirt, the con, the thief, the untouchable, has finally fallen in love.   
  
Joe's finished with another customer and is heading over to where I'm sitting in my usual seat at the bar. Probably wants to see if I know anything about Amanda's state of mind. After all, he did send me as an emissary yesterday. Sometimes I think he likes the excuse of 'watch and don't interfere' that comes with the Watcher oath. He likes to ignore it when it suits him but when he wants me to do his dirty work...Focusing on Amanda Joe asks, "What do you think is up with her?" 'Damn I hate being right all the time. Wait... no I don't.'  
  
"I don't have a clue." If Joe had turned around he would have seen that while my face remained the same my eyes were laughing. I felt the buzz wash over me. Swinging my gaze away from Amanda I focused on the door. It wasn't MacLoed so I went on alert. I relaxed when Richie came through. He searched along the bar finding me he moved along. His eyes stopped on Amanda and I saw the beginning of something in his eyes. I couldn't keep from grinning. This was just too good. The youngster was falling in love and from the way Amanda was reacting to Richie's presence the feeling was more than reciprocated. Joe still wasn't looking at me - instead, he was focused on the two immortals conversing at the end of his bar.  
  
Absently he said, "He called me yesterday you know. His apartment was burned down and he said Mac and him had gotten into a fight. He wanted to know where Amanda was staying."  
  
"Really." 'This is getting better and better. I wonder how the Highlander is going to react to having his lover stolen by his student?' Oh, well love is a fickle thing and young love is so fleeting. I wish them luck. They're going to need it.  
  
Fin 


End file.
